All's fair in Love and War
by Umodin
Summary: Were it not for the compulsions placed onto him over these past decades, Hercules would never have known that his mind was being played with. But he did, and so upon facing Kratos in that dreaded amphitheater at the behest of Hera, a different scenario came about.


**A very random thing that came to mind when I decided to replay GoW3, just before I meant to replay GoW(2018). Takes place right before the Hercules encounter.**

* * *

"_Pandora, that wretched little thing my son Hephaestus created? Well… We can't have that, my dear."_

Hercules felt the compulsion course through his veins with her next words, foreign yet familiar magic rolling through his bones, igniting his lust for violence in a manner that, while enticing, was not meant to be. He bit at his lip, blood falling onto his newly shaved chin, knowing what was to come.

"_Destroy him."_

Bidden by the command of her geass, he moved, heavy footsteps thundering across the stone hall. Each footfall seemed to shake the very foundations of Olympus, canvases falling and tiles cracking. Braziers of red-hot flames hung by bronze chains rattled with each movement, and soon the view of the outside world was his to see, mottled and ruined though it was.

And at the end of the hall stood but a single man. Pale as bone ivory, with a red tattoo snaking over his scarred physique, Kratos stood a dangerous and imposing vigil. And that was not all, for he was armed with the greatest weaponries in all of Olympus. Hercules recognized the Golden Fleece wrapped around his left arm; the Boots of Hermes strapped snugly against his calves. Even the severed head strapped this his waist was a danger, Helios' skull letting out concentrated sunlight against the dark, foreboding atmosphere in the air.

But these were not the weapons Hercules was paying attention to. Nor did he stare at the chained blades strewn over his back overly much.

What Hercules was staring at were none other than the harsh, angular claws resting over his thighs, glowing a harsh purple light that bode great ill.

_The Claws of Hades,_ Hercules thought, his mouth going dry. He'd seen them over half a hundred times by this point, but never had they been away from the possession of their namesake.

The Claws were weapons that channeled the spirits of the underworld. They allowed their wielder to take in the soul of their enemy, absorbing their power and culpability.

And more than that, if used correctly, they could lead to the end to his servitude and allow him his redemption.

Soon, they were face to face. Or, speaking more accurately, face to waist. Hercules had been blessed after birth, or cursed depending on who asked, with great height and even greater strength. Hera had been tricked into breastfeeding him upon the day of his birth, and it was her milk that gifted him this boon. It had also earned him her eternal ire, and she'd never allowed him to forget such.

But Kratos held no care for blessings or curses, certainly not height. Craning his neck upwards so their eyes would each meet, he showed not an ounce of fear.

"Hello, brother." Hercules said, a casual tone in his voice.

"This is not between us, Hercules." Kratos bit.

"Isn't it?" Hercules chuckled. He looked around, the devastation that Kratos had wrought throughout the day more apparent than ever. Great vortexes of blackened winds fought against the still rising sea whilst scores upon scores of undead creatures crawling out from the depths of the underworld in a mad dash for freedom. The remnants of his domination over Poseidon, Hades, and Hermas. This chaos was indicative to Kratos's power, and the power he'd been granted by their father. "You were always Zeus's favorite."

"The air on Olympus affects your thinking, brother. Zeus has no favorites."

Hercules scoffed, stepping back. He began to pace around his ash covered sibling and spoke his mind, loudly and with purpose. "Think about it, brother. While I was stuck cleaning the Augean stables, he chose you to destroy Ares."

The Ghost of Sparta's brow rose only a hair in response.

"Not convinced?" Hercules asked, taking a gander at the stands of the auditorium they were stood inside. Undead minions loyal to Hera lined the way, two of them holding his weapons, the Nemean Cestus. "How about this? While you were being crowned the God of War, I was sent to find an _apple."_

Hera cackled from above. Hercules grit his teeth at the sound.

"They called them Labors. _Hah!_ …Perhaps he did allow me to kill the Nemean Lion, but he made _your_ name known amongst the people."

Finally, he faced Kratos directly, slowly creeping his head closer and closer to his brothers. "But this time brother, this time _I _will destroy you."

Once he was near enough by, his mouth inches from Kratos' ear, Hercules whispered his intent. "_On my signal, toss me the Claws of Hades. Then break the ring. Do this, and I will aid you, brother. I swear it._"

Righting himself, Hercules saw only a flash of surprise in his brother's eyes before turning towards Hera with raised arms. "Call it my thirteenth and final Labor!"

She drank some more, shoulders rolling with mirth, and he continued to his speech. "Soon I will become the God of War and claim the Throne for myself."

"You aspire to be an Olympian," Kratos said. Hercules turned around. "Yet their reign is ending, Hercules."

A low, shallow nod was offered by the pale warrior, and Hercules fought a grin from forming. Instead, he forced himself to frown harshly, and jumped up onto Hera's podium.

The fighting soon began. Kratos was a dance of death, his flaming blades twisting through the air as if they were loose extensions of his own arms. It was a brutal and beautiful sight to behold, Hercules found. The undead servants of Hera fell by the droves onto him, and yet he did not falter. Spectral shields and spears of magic would occasionally surround Kratos, blocking and barraging the small army, knocking them alongside one another. And when he'd enough room, the Claws of Hades would rend the souls from those still-walking corpses, leading to many second deaths.

It was when their numbers were down to half, did Hercules feel the compulsion again, harder and strong than ever before. He twisted his neck, noting how Hera fiddled with a ring of diamond inlaid with glowing sapphires. She stared darkly at him and jerked her head forward. A silent _get on with it. _He growled, wanting nothing more than to snap her neck, but his body and mind were not in collusion towards that endeavor.

Instead, as undead servants placed the Nemean Cestus onto his wrists, he hopped into the arena, assaulting Kratos. The Ghost of Sparta met him head on, and a battle of brute strength began.

Hercules had always been great in power. Born the demigod son of Zeus to the mortal woman Alcmene, granddaughter of Perseus, his pedigree was fantastic. With Hera's milk giving him great strength as an infant, he was a god in body, stronger already than some of the Olympians, Hermes for example. But he was not a _true _god, his soul still stained with mortality, and Kratos was the former God of War whose power only grew greater away from the golden mountain. Especially now that he possessed the soul of Hades.

In simpler terms, Kratos was stronger than Hercules. And it showed.

Their fight lasted for a time, but it did not last long. Each punch Hercules threw was dodged, replaced by the screech of chainblades slicing at his body. Every hit he got on his brother was returned three-fold. Hercules was forced into the spiked brambles running rampant against the arena walls many a time, slashed at more than he cared to count. He ran for Kratos, sparing a look upwards at the Hera's dais, and saw she was nearing a drunken sleep.

His eyes flashed, and he dropped one of his Nemean Cestus just as Kratos jumped at him once more. "_NOW!"_

Fast as could be, Kratos swiped the Claws of Hades from his sides and threw them at Hercules. Catching them by the chain, Hercules tugged hard, yanking his brother with them. He then twisted his body, dropping the other Cestus, and used his newly free hand to propel Kratos towards Hera's lounging form.

An unspoken signal was acted upon. Kratos sheathed his blades and grabbed Hera harshly, startling her awake. Without offering her the opportunity to respond in any manner, the Ghost of Sparta ripped her ring-bearing finger from her hand and tossed her onto the stage as if she were a ragdoll.

As this happened, Hercules held both Claws in his hands, twisting their chains over his wrists. He spun his body, loosing the Claws of Hades as he did this, piercing a screaming Hera by the sides. He pulled harshly, and instead of her body, a spirit of pink, translucent energy was drug from her form. Her very soul bare to the world.

With one last tug, her spirit struggling harshly, he forced it into his person, melded it with his body.

Power unlike anything he'd ever felt before then encompassed him. Hercules gasped, dropping the Claws onto the floor as uncoordinated visions that made no sense at all swam through his mind, light shifting all over. A snap seemed to echo from his mind, the last of the magic compelling him to follow Hera finally lifted. His wounds began to visibly heal over, his depleted energy returning with a heated vengeance.

As his power grew, Hera's body weakened. It withered before him, tan skin turning puce, wrinkling horribly as if a grape to a raisin. A miasma of grey mist escaped her, shooting into the sky. Plants withered with her, dying before him.

It was done. Hera, wife of Zeus, mother of Ares and Hephaestus, Goddess of Fertility and Marriage, was dead.

He was free.

* * *

"Zeus gave the order?" Kratos asked, idly kicking an animated stone golem lined through the walkway. On his waist, next to the Head of Helios, was an ornate chalice once belonging to Hera, an item recommended by his brother.

"He did," Hercules nodded, squeezing the skull of an undead servant as if it were an overly ripe tomato. "After you killed Ares, a… the words escape me. _Something _changed the Olympians. Their vices were amplified, their fears feeling real. I once felt envious of your position brother, but I knew your history and share much of it. I did not wish to feel your sacrifice. But with the death of Ares, that envy had grown beyond the scope of my own mind. It made to consume me. It consumed Zeus. All of Olympus were gripped by it in some manner, I would say."

"And yet, you did not fall to it."

Hercules grunted. "It was a near thing, and I still struggle with this feeling, this unnatural fear. But no, I have not fallen to its grip. And much as she would not wish it so, it was Hera that kept me from that last descent into madness."

An irony if there ever was one. Many years ago, before Zeus claimed Hercules as his son, he'd been a married mortal man. With a wife and two strong sons to call his own, Hercules was blessed truly and loved them with a fierce devotion. But Hera had been bitter that the bastard son of Zeus had a happy marriage when her own was filled with hate and disappointment. And so, she'd used her magic to have Hercules believe his family to be enemies looting his home, and he'd slaughtered them in a brutal, gory fashion. Upon breaking from her spell and seeing the aftermath of his actions, Zeus revealed himself, and sent Hercules towards his Labors for atonement.

Hercules never did find atonement on his Labors. However, he did learn to always keep aware of himself, of foreign magics and whatever else might affect his mind. Hera tried time after time to perform similar acts on his person, and each time helped Hercules realize when the magic was being used.

And when the last of his Labors was finished, he was summoned to Olympus. Zeus had already anointed Kratos as the God of War at this point, and felt it deserved that his other, similarly impressive son, be rewarded too. Though to call it a reward was quite untrue. It was at this time that the spike of envy towards Kratos was first felt, rising higher and higher over time.

"Zeus ordered me to attend to Hera as her guard. He feared that you would turn against Olympus, and wished the weakest of the Olympians well kept, wife or no. Yet in his fear and paranoia, he forgot that Hera was the one that all of my anguish and grief lay at the feet of." And it was in that moment that Hera was finally able to use her magic as a control once more. Zeus had allowed it. "When you _did _assault Olympus, and when you proved able to kill his brothers, I knew that one of two things would happen. Either you would succeed, or you would not, and many thrones of Olympus would be vacant."

"Hmph." Kratos growled, slamming a fist against a wall. It rattled. "You still aspire to be an Olympian. A fool errand. I meant what I said, Hercules. The time of Olympus has ended."

Hercules hummed, walking forward. A gate of gold set with silver insets of shells and fish stood before him. Poseidon's chambers in Olympus. The harried scream of a woman sounded from inside. "And somebody will be there to pick up the pieces."

"_You?_"

"Whoever is willing. We will know soon enough who that will be."

.

The sounds of pleasure were overwhelming.

Feminine moans and pants of delight and desire echoed all throughout the room, and Hercules felt his throat go tight. He'd not felt the pleasure of the flesh in years, and his nethers stirred at the sounds. He fumbled, unsure on if he should open the door or not.

Kratos held no such discretion. Instead, he kicked the door open boldly, taking in the pink, sensual room that housed three women atop a circular bed surrounded by scented candles, giggling in coital bliss. One was a dark-skinned maid of a shorter height with great big teets, whilst the other was light and blonde, a tall woman with a slender physique.

And beneath them lay the third. The most beautiful woman in the world, her long auburn hair was kept in a braid, and seemed to sway hypnotically without the movement of wind. Her eyes were pale and blue, as if the sky itself was born from her gaze. And her body lay bare, save for the scantest of silk cloth drapes running along her shoulders and waist, sheer in appearance, covering nothing of her form.

"Kratos?" Aphrodite asked in a panting breath. "It's been _far _too long." Her eyes then shifted to him and widened further. A tongue snaked across her lips, and her gaze smoldered with hunger. "_And _Hercules? My my, this _is _a day to echo for ages to come."

With a wave of her hand, she shooed her hand maidens away, and crawled over towards the brothers with a sensual, predatory sort of movement. Her attention shifted back to Kratos.

"Even though you are no longer the God of War, you can still share my bed." As she spoke, she twisted her body so that her stomach was facing the ceiling, the back of her hand trailing alongside the Ghost of Sparta's thigh.

But Kratos was made of sterner stuff. "I have no time for games, Aphrodite."

Her sensuality did not go away, but her tone did shift into an accusatory one. "Do you know how long it has been since a real man has come into my chambers? Those bridges outside are nearly destroyed, Zeus refused to have that mortal Daedalus stop working on his precious Labyrinth to fix them!"

Kratos twitched, and Aphrodite seemed to see something. "_Ah… _Is that what has you all worked up? You are trying to figure out that bridge contraption out there. Hah! You men and your toys."

Simultaneously, the brothers scowled.

The bridge leading to Aphrodite's chamber was a ruined monstrosity of gears and magic that was only traversable by great leaps of strength. The rest was completely destroyed and unable to move, separated too far for either brother to reach with strength alone. Locked, without a level or gear to adjust. Kratos and Hercules did not come in here because they wanted to. It was the only room available that could be reached, and likely only by them. No mortal or minor godling living on Olympus could make the journey.

Aphrodite let out a throaty hum. "The only one who could fix those bridges is my husband, and we both know he's worthless. Now, I ask you again, Kratos. Will you stay?"

Kratos looked around the room, taking in the fine draperies and the light shadows that accentuated her nubile form. He released a great sigh, shoulders falling, and said only one word.

"No."

Finally, Aphrodite scowled, her face still beautiful but marred with annoyance. "You men and your need for war and vengeance. Talk to my husband if you must! You can get to him through there." She nodded her head towards a room corner, and a curtain opened, revealing and ornately decorated Hyperion Gate.

Kratos moved towards it, but Aphrodite was not done. "But you may only use it on one condition, Spartan."

"What, wench?"

"_You_ may use the gate. Hercules may not. He will stay."

It was not a demand that Hercules particularly _wanted _to reject. Aphrodite was stunning and nubile and beyond willing, and he desired her greatly. But he'd made a promise. "I gave my word, Aphrodite. I swore that I would help Kratos. I cannot do this from your chambers."

The curtains closed with a grip of iron. "Then there will be no aid given."

Kratos slashed his blades at the drapery, but instead of cutting it, the scraping of metal on metal sounded. He scowled and turned around, intent on killing her. But she was not done. "End me, Spartan, and the gate will close. That Hyperion Gate was carved by my husband upon our marriage, so that I might visit him in the forge. I have never used it, of course, but it is tied to my essence. Should I die, it will no longer work."

"I need not kill you to make you open the gate, woman." Kratos decreed.

"No." She agreed. "No, you need not. Simply give me your brother, and all will be well."

Perhaps it was the steely resolve in her voice. Or the essence of calm her body exuded. Whatever it was, Kratos did the unthinkable to Hercules, something so out of character for the Ghost of Sparta that the slayer of the Nemean Lion could not comprehend it fully.

He agreed.

"_Fine._" Kratos bit. And the curtains opened with his statement, a flourish of enchanted, heavy silks that seemed joyful to be exposed.

"Brother…"

"All that matters, Hercules, is my revenge. Your oath is nothing when compared to that."

Kratos walked towards the gate. Hercules moved quickly, standing in front of it. They traded heavy stares, lasting minutes, until Hercules loosened a sigh.

"I swore I would aid you. Even if I am not to be with you, I mean to keep my word." He loosened his grip on the Nemean Cestus and offered them to the pale warrior. "My weapons are strong, heavy things. Able to break Olympus Onyx, forged from the bones of the Nemean Lion by Hephaestus himself. Use them well."

His arm stretched towards the spartan, and Kratos reached forward as well. They gripped at one another's forearms, giving only a single shake. Hercules moved away, Kratos lifted the Nemean Cestus from the floor, and then they were separated by way of the portal.

"So dramatic." Aphrodite said. Hercules looked towards her. She'd removed her shawl, baring the perfection that was her body to him. "Though I cannot deny my enjoyment of such. I've always had a weakness for the theatres of the world. The only drama I've been able to reach for comes from past that gate, and we all know how foolish it would be to make contact with my husband."

Hercules stripped his armor, his shoulder-pads and helm hitting the floor. "Are we going to speak on your husband?" His loincloth soon followed along his armor. "Or are we to have a different sort of communication."

Her eyes flashed as she rove over his body, letting out an appreciative purr. "My dear, we will be doing _much _more than communicate."

There was little else to say. Her very presence built up the lust in a person, and both were near panting with want.

They lunged for one another, Hercules' great bulk catching her midair in a searing kiss, pushing her back onto the bed. Meaty paws and met wild curves, and words were ignored.

When Kratos returned roughly an hour later through the Hyperion Gate, he held a new weapon in hand sparking with electricity and was summarily ignored by the pair. Aphrodite's handmaidens had at one point in time joined them in their rutting, and the screaming, giggling tones the women let out and the panting grunts Hercules allowed to escape drowned out his arrival.

He left without anybody noticing he was ever there.

.

The only reason they stopped was because they had no choice.

Hercules and Aphrodite were having a grand time, their pent-up bodies released onto one another without any inhibition. There was no need for such. It had been years since Aphrodite last lay with a man, and years since Hercules had lain with anyone at all. Their joining lasted for hours, neither stopping, only savoring, and likely would have continued had the Labyrinth not started to rise.

The Great Chain that connected the peak of Olympus to the wastes of Tartarus was the intermediary that kept the Labyrinth in place. And for whatever reason, Kratos had decided it need by raised. Doing this brought Mount Olympus to its veritable knees, shaking it at its very foundation.

The shaking of the room shook Aphrodite our of her lust. She jumped away from Hercules as a support pillar fell onto the side of her bed, crushing the spine of her dark-skinned handmaiden. Her wild eyes surveyed her chamber, taking in the way dust and rock and all manner of debris began to fall and crumble around her, whilst the tall, slender handmaiden screamed her surprise.

He too shot away from her. He ran for the door, and upon opening it, saw Mount Olympus teetering onto its edge. A great hull of wood and stone was slowly rising from below, each movement upward toppling more and more of the mountain he stood. Combined with the ruined landscape of Greece, high seas and black winds, the only thing that could be seen was havoc. Kratos brought about chaos personified.

Hercules returned to the room and put on his cloth. The other handmaiden had been crushed by a wall. Aphrodite had run towards her curtain and wrapped it over her body, its enchantment covering her from being squashed.

"This cannot be," she whispered, huddled and shaking. "Hephaestus built this room to be unbreakable. Nothing short of the fall of Olympus could do this."

"That is exactly what is happening right now, Aphrodite." Hercules growled. The mention of her husband did bring about the spark of an idea to mind though. "We need to use the gate."

"But he!-… No, you're right." Aphrodite shuddered at the admission but looked toward him with steely eyes. "Repugnant though he is, I'd rather suffer my husband's presence than die. But you only possess the body of a god, not the soul, and the soul of a god is what is needed to traverse the gate. You cannot walk it."

"I can now." Hercules stated. The soul of Hera flowed through his body. With it added to his, he was a god in full, though the sphere he commanded was yet unknown. "Trust me. There is no time."

Together, they walked through the gate, just as Aphrodite's chamber fell to pieces from behind. From a lavish room of heavy drapes, they made way into a boiling cave of lava and stone. And directly in the middle of the room lay the corpse of a giant, deformed man, jaw hanging low whilst his head was lolled over his shoulder. A metal spear of sorts was pierced directly through his sternum. A painful end.

"Hephaestus…" Aphrodite whispered, heavy with melancholy. She looked pained to see the corpse of her husband. Hercules presumed this to mean that even with his disfigurement and ugly appearance, he was still her husband and held a place of sorts within her heart.

But they had no time to mourn. Should they try to take such, it would be themselves that would need mourning over. This was one of the foundations of the mountain, and untouched though it was, it would not be for long. Looking around the Forge, Hercules found a shield and hammer. Poor replacements for the Nemean Cestus, but they would do.

He led Aphrodite away, and she followed with short, unlabored movements. Through stone caverns did they move, traversing past corpses and creatures intent on their death. Eventually, after combing through Kratos's ruin, they came upon the remains of the Realm of Hades.

Through Aphrodite's power, they were able to remain unmolested and relatively unbothered. Her title as Goddess of Love allowed her to distort the senses of lesser creatures and mortals, making them believe her too beautiful to look upon or approach. She could do much more, and much worse, if she so chose, but Aphrodite was a vane woman that believed her natural beauty was enough to snare any man or woman, thinking that her power was unneeded more often than not.

Traversing through the underworld was nothing like it had been the first time for Hercules. For his twelfth and final Labor, he'd been bid to find and corral the Cerberus. That was at one of the few mortal entryways of Hades, and he'd much time to prepare and strategize his moves.

This was different. The underworld was in a fit of riot, spirits and undead and monsters all vying for the land of the living. Without Aphrodite's power, he would have been overrun eventually. And without Hercules, Aphrodite likely would not have been able to escape Olympus at all.

They passed through much and many, and when they found a Hyperion Gate alongside the bluffs, untouched by the denizens of the underworld, they entered through.

It was a back-alley entrance leading to the city of Olympia, though to call it a city would be wrong. It was barely discernable as a ruin, the smoldering body of Perses, the fallen titan of fire, lay over its foundations, volcanic storms of magma and rock falling from his body all throughout the former gem of Greece. Heavy hurricanes from high above blew a treacherous rainfall along the body of the titan, each patter of water bringing about a steam that nearly blanketed the cityscape.

Hercules and Aphrodite struggled to make way through Olympia, but they did still. There was no going back. The underworld was not meant for them. Not yet. Luckily, Perses' seemed to have killed off any monsters or enemies to be found, so their hike was the only challenge to be had. With his great strength and large frame, it made little sense to have Aphrodite climb on her own. Instead, she fashioned her iron drape over his shoulders and sat along his back in a hammock of sorts, keeping an eye on that which lay behind.

And this was shown to be a good thing. Whilst Hercules was climbing a high cliff, Aphrodite shouted a loud "_Look there!" _He twisted his neck, and followed where her finger pointed, towards the Gates of Eos. Through the steam, a single flicker of light could be discerned, in the shape of a horse.

"One of the steeds from Helios's chariot, I think." Aphrodite continued; tone breathy with excitement. "I know not which and care not either. It must have survived whilst the others perished. They can fly. We can _leave._"

It was as sound a plan as any. And as they had no other plan aside from living, it made more sense than ever. Hercules carefully maneuvered his way towards the horse, taking note of the heavy steam and low footfalls all around. It would have been easier to climb over Perses to reach the horse, but to do so would be the equivalent of walking through lava. Thus, they were forced to take the longer path, climbing and hiking along the mountainous cliffs that Olympia was built out of.

But when they reached the light shaped like a steed, the steam seemed to dissipate. That, or it could not go near the horse. Or the bloody remains of Helios.

The steed was magnificent. A massive horse, standing at what seemed to be an even fifteen feet, thrice that in length. Coarse black fur draped in dark red runes, deep yellow eyes showing a vast intelligence; a mane of white fire rested from the crease of his brow to crack of his ass. It craned its neck downwards, pushing at the headless body of Helios, golden armor stained in blood and soot.

"It's Notus, of the South." Aphrodite stated. Hercules shot her a look. She elaborated with a roll of her eyes. "Whenever Helios shared my bed, he would always brag on his steeds. Notus was the one with red runes, while Euros had yellow and Zephyros had green. He thought to compare his cock to that of his horses. It was not near that grand a specimen."

At its called name, or perhaps the name of its master, Notus looked up. Yellow eyes narrowed, and it brayed lowly, twisting around to face them, keeping careful not to put much strain on its front left leg.

"You shared his bed," Hercules stated, eyeing the horse warily. It began to click its hooves against the ground. Were this just an enemy, he would not feel worry. Yet he was not meant to kill it, but to tame it. A far more difficult task. "How do I control it?"

"Look at Helios' body. Do you see that his right arm is gloved whilst his left is not?"

"I do." It was a thick gauntlet, golden and brilliant like Helios' armor, but also radiated a smoky sort of residue.

"They obey the one who wields the glove. Helios battled Apollo for the sun ages ago, and upon his victory took it as prize from the dethroned Olympian."

"Then our path is simple. I will fight the steed; you will grab the glove."

Aphrodite sighed. "I _do _so hate to get dirty. But dirt has been my companion this day, and that will not change just yet. Fine, let us do our best with this."

Notus whinnied loudly and began its charge, hooves turning to flame as its body hovered. With each movement of its shoulder, each stroke of hoof on air, great gales of flame billowed a trail. Hercules and Aphrodite dove out of its way, though not before Hercules threw his shield at the beast. It bounced off Notus' nose, falling down the cliffside.

Attention held, Notus charged at Hercules once more. And once more, Hercules dove to the side. He made to grab the steed from behind, but found the flame too hot to hold for long and was forced to let go.

Their dance continued on and on. Notus would charge, Hercules would dodge. Disrupted only when Notus would notice Aphrodite nearing the corpse of its master and force her away. Then the cycle would repeat again and again, a dance with Hercules and a charge towards Aphrodite, until finally it tripped. Helios' shield lay beneath one of its front hooves, and the disk made for a poor balance. Notus fell to its side, and Hercules took advantage.

Though the steed was too hot hold, there were other ways to keep it down. Aphrodite had lost her drape when Notus forced her away from Helios' corpse for the third time, showing her nakedness to the world, and it remained cool even through the depths of Hades. Hercules grabbed it and used the cloth to cover Notus. While heat could still be felt, as should be expected due to this horse being meant to herald the dawn, it was not nearly so cloying that it could not be held this time.

Using his great bulk, Hercules slammed his body onto Notus, gripping stone with whitened knuckles so that the beast could not escape. It tried heartily, braying and kicking whenever it could. But Hercules could hold down the Nemean Lion, and Notus was not near its equal in strength.

"Aphrodite!" Hercules shouted. "Grab it!"

He could not see her, too caught up in his current action, but he did hear her. Bare feet slapping against pavement, armor jingled as it was moved from the ground, and the fastening of straps onto flesh reverberated. A snap rung out through the clearing, echoing off of Perses' corpse, and with it a calm fell onto Notus. The steed no longer fought, no longer struggled. It merely craned its neck, and the panic in its muzzle was gone, deep yellow eyes taking on a more curious trace now.

Hercules stood, turning around, and Notus did as well. It hovered over the pavement and moved towards Aphrodite. She was holding her left hand aloft, as if meaning to reach for the skies, while her tits and cunt were open for any and all to see. Notus approached, and she ran the glove along his flank, eyes lidded in a hazy state.

While she was distracted, Hercules methodically began to spread her curtain over Notus' back, wrapping it under its rune-covered belly. Experimentally, he tugged on the fabric, and felt it tight enough. With a heave, he mounted Notus, and after finding comfort, bent lower so he could grab Aphrodite. She did not approach immediately, instead walking off to the side to pick up the shield that tripped the steed in the first place. And now that their struggle had been settled, Hercules recognized it in full. The Sun Shield, a powerful artefact able to reflect attacks like the wind could a feather. Rumor had it that it was forged of the same material that the Golden Fleece had been, which granted both items their similar abilities.

She strapped it to the grooves of her newly acquired gauntlet and finally approached. With a heave, she used Hercules' arm as a vault and settled herself in the space between his legs, straddling his cock without an ounce of shame. Her beauty and aura compelled his body to react, and soon he was sheathed inside of her, earning a pleased sigh.

With a clear, steady breath, Aphrodite spoke, holding Notus's mane as if it were a pair of reigns. "Forward."

His body lit up once more, white-gold flames encompassing his being, yet through neither Aphrodite nor Hercules felt the pain that came with it. Swiftly moving, Notus began to canter, then led into a trot and then a gallop, off the side of Olympia. And when he fell from the walled domain, the very wind itself was his road, and he rode along its current.

* * *

They settled onto a nearby mountain pillar, not nearly as high as Olympus was, but unconnected and tall enough not to be swallowed by the sea. Their view of the ruined symbol of the gods was difficult to see, but they _were_ gods, and so their sight was great enough to take in the wreckage.

The Labyrinth had lifted itself beyond Olympia, seemingly only minutes after they had trudged away. The city was beyond destroyed, beyond being a ruin. Nothing was left, save for fire and the barest hints of patched stonework. The bodies of the titans that had been climbing the great mountain were scattered about its base, their forms, arcing with lightning and lava and ice, glowed a fierce color beneath the risen sea, giving the already destitute landscape an even eerier feel.

"What are we to do?" Aphrodite asked, stroking Notus's mane in an attempt at calming herself. When the immediate threat to her life was no longer an issue, she broke down into sobbing tears, but refused the hand of her rescuer. The Goddess of Love was not willing to play the part of the weak woman who needed the aid of a man in her turmoil. In her mind, the greatest way to settle a broken heart was a fevered rut, and so she did just that. Now that they were finished, her mind wandered to their more immediate issue. "This is…"

"I know." Hercules sighed, slumped on a boulder. He did not allow his sight to leave the mountain, where the titan Gaia had finally reached the top of her ascent, the forms of Kratos and Zeus battling in such a manner that left the newly made god honestly stumped. He'd thought himself strong, but now he knew. He was weak compared to his brother and father. "How did this even happen?"

"Fear." Aphrodite said with melancholy. "Fear is what happened. Zeus is Olympus, and so his emotions are felt in the mountain. And expelled towards those that inhabit it. He remembers it not, but when Hephaestus forged Pandora's Box, this land took on the splendor you were born into. Before that, though… Olympus was not near as grand. It was an ideal that he could not meet out, for his hatred of the titans, his envy towards his fellow gods, and the fear that he would be usurped of his throne were awash in the land. Athena was the one that convinced him to pour the worst of these traits into the box, and after, not only was he free of his burden, but so too was Olympus."

"And Kratos opened the box to slay Ares." Hercules said, understanding beginning to bloom in his tone.

Aphrodite nodded. "She may have believed herself subtle, but Athena was always grasping. She governed Wisdom, and thus believed herself to be incapable of being wrong. To ensure Pandora's Box was not solely the container for the negativities of Greece, she put her own godly essence inside of it. And when Ares was attacking her city, and she was unable to defend it… she grew angered, and desperate. Her belief was that once the box was opened, she would regain her power, and be able to stop Ares."

"But Kratos took it for himself."

"And became the God of War in his place. But though he held Athena's godly might, the rest of Olympus felt the weight of the rest of the box once more. Only this time, with the population of Olympia having risen and the gods more numerous than ever, these feelings were multiplied, and it was not long before Zeus, in his paranoia, coupled with Kratos's lust for battle, made to end his new God of War."

"Which led us to this." Hercules rubbed at his brow, both content and horrible frustrated. It made sense now, why his emotions had been all over the place upon his return to Olympus. But for it to have been at the blame of his father was… It was expected, being honest. But still disappointing; disappointing and worse.

But then a new thought came to mind. "Why did you not suffer in the same manner?"

"Because I was born to Oceanus, the titan whose sphere of influence Poseidon took on. His home, the land of my birth, was remade into Atlantis, into Poseidon's image. When my father was brought to Tartarus and the Olympian gods made to claim the territories of the newly deposed titans, they came across other gods born of titan stock. I was the most powerful of them, and so was courted to Olympus with a seat on their council. But Olympus was not yet my home when Pandora's Box was built, and with the disappointment that was my husband and the ridicule I have suffered for my nature, it never became it. I did not suffer because I was not of Olympus."

Nodding in contrition, Hercules looked on to the remains of his home once more. "Rebuilding will take time, true-"

"_Rebuilding?!" _She shrieked incredulously. "You think to rebuild Olympus? Fool! It seems just because you are large, does not mean your mind is similar. It would take at least a hundred years to bring this place to a habitable standing with the work of servants. But the seas have drowned the mortals that would do our bidding and the souls of Hades no longer answer to our call."

"The lands of Greece stretch far and wide. This is just a-"

"Just a what?" Aphrodite cut through his words of hope, as if her tongue was a knife. She stood from her steed and found purchase in front of him. Grabbing Hercules by the cheeks, a gentle look took over her face. Gentle, but fierce in such a way that made him able to ignore her nakedness and the stirring in his body for it. "My dear, I do not want to admit this, but we must face our realities. Olympus was Greece, and Olympus has fallen. Whatever the remnant may be, whether or not it is Zeus or Kratos that is in the end victorious, that fact remains. Greece has fallen."

As if to add on to that statement, a pain scream echoed through the land. They snapped their attention towards it, and saw Gaia, mother of the earth, crumble away as if made of dirt clumps. Kratos stood, bloodied and tired, but he still stood, and before him lay Zeus, the Blade of Olympus strewn between his ribs.

"He did it…" Aphrodite exclaimed, incredulous and admiring. Hercules could not blame her.

But he remained fixated on the scene. "No…" He muttered, dawning with realization as a black mist pooled from Zeus's body. "No, it isn't over."

A flash of lightning, a boom of thunder, and Zeus stood once more in a blacked astral form, with Kratos on the ground this time. With a roar, the arms that Kratos had collected over his ascendance of Olympus scattered over their battlefield, and Zeus wailed onto the Ghost of Sparta without any hint of stopping.

Only, even through it all, kratos held strong. A blue outline shone from his body, flames of energy taking form over his fists, and the blows were returned. This was both the battle of the gods, and a barnyard brawl.

One that Kratos had won.

Dark, stormy clouds gathered around the corpse, both from within and from the sky above. They culminated together, forcing a great beam of lightning beyond anything Zeus had created before into the sky. So strong was this beam that the mountain rose with it, winds howling past the point of sense. A torrent of energy flung all across Greece, land and sea and sky quaking as it reverberated all throughout.

Aphrodite held tight to Hercules, and he in turn held tight to the mountain stone. It was not enough. They began to fall, only for Notus to dive and catch them onto his back. And still, he struggled with this wind.

Clawing up his body, gasping for purchase, they rode the air, for their lives depended on it. Notus found a small cave within a mountaintop and made for it.

With nothing else to do and adrenaline flowing through them, they settled into the cave, and all three of them huddled together for warmth and comfort.

.

When they awoke, the chaos that was the world had calmed. Though wrecked and nonsensical in its grandiose scale, Greece was no longer the personification of ruin.

The seas had fallen, the skies had opened, the sun had risen, and the dead had retreated.

Silently, Aphrodite and Hercules mounted Notus once more and made way towards the remnants of Olympus. They settled at its peak, where Kratos and Zeus concluded their battle, and looked on.

Nobody was here, save for them. Zeus's body had disintegrated into ash, and Kratos looked to have crawled off the cliff, a great bloody stain against the uneven floors.

Hercules had been staring at that stain for longer than he realized, for he regained his notice of the world as noises occurred from behind. He turned, and saw Aphrodite holding the Icarus Wings against her shoulderblades. With magic unknown to him, they weaved into her flesh, the blacked wings turning white like a doves, and found home on her person.

She looked up and smiled slightly. "The items here are our for the taking. And I mean to take that which is worthy of me."

Blinking, Hercules allowed himself to take a similar thought process, and grabbed the Boots of Hermes for himself. Putting them on, they resized themselves for his bulk, and their magic sung into his bones.

Aphrodite took the Bow of Apollo then, and Hercules took the Golden Fleece. She took the Nemesis Whip, and he took the Claws of Hades. He took the Nemean Cestus back and she made to take the Blades of Exhile, only to frown in consternation when they seemed to dissipate into smoke.

Then, still frowning, Aphrodite grabbed the Head of Helios, and her look turned to melancholy. "Such a shame…"

"All of this is a shame," Hercules grunted, grabbing the last item available. The Blade of Olympus, the weapon whose might ended the Titan War for the Olympians.

The blade born of the father, used by the son to end the legacy of the father, now wielded by the brother once scorned. A fitting, if sad, state of affairs.

"Still, Helios especially." Aphrodite continued. "He was stubborn and poorly settled, but he was a good person as a whole."

"I would disagree," a masculine voice said from behind them.

Twisting quickly, Aphrodite wielding the Nemesis Whip whilst Hercules held the Blade of Olympus tight, they took in the sight of a stranger in muted brown robes. But they could tell that he was no simple mortal, for he exuded the divinity of a god.

"And who are you?" Hercules demanded, taking a menacing step closer.

The stranger lowered his hood, revealing a handsomely chiseled face, with straw blonde hair and kind blue eyes, though he seemed weathered by age and strife. "One who has foretold this day."

"Apollo…" Aphrodite did not shy from the surprise in her voice. "I thought you dead."

"Many did," he admitted. He stepped forward and opened his hand, indicating towards the head in her arms. Slowly, Aphrodite offered it to him, and upon touching it, golden light streamed into his body. The Head of Helios no longer emitted the sun from above, and instead fell to ash, scattered over Apollo's wrists. His blue eyes turned golden, and his body seemed to rejuvenate before them. "I made it so."

"How are you alive, though? Helios slew you to take your power."

"He nearly did, this is true," nodded the god. "And yet, I live. Helios usurped my power and chariot, but I was not solely the god of the sun. I too held sway from my mother's domains and held knowledge of prophecy."

"You foretold this happening?" Hercules asked.

"I did. I told Zeus of my vision, and enraged by even the thought of his rein ending, he orchestrated my downfall, along with the ascension of Helios. Were it not for Hestia and her healing fires, I would have died. My dearest aunt demanded the details of the prophecy, and soon after abdicated her throne and temple, knowing that her presence would be needed in this future."

"But how are you here? Why are you here?"

"I am here because I needed to be here. I knew that the age of the gods was to pass us by, that the mortals of Greece would have their time, but also knew that though Olympus would fall, some of its might must remain." He smiled then, looking amused. "As to how I am here…"

He pointed his finger to the sky, and Aphrodite and Hercules both looked on.

A chariot was racing away, silver and great with three steeds of a similar size to Notus. Behind them, the sun rose, banishing more and more of the blackened clouds above.

"The sun and moon must maintain their cycle always; none know this better than my sister, Artemis. She felt Helios die, felt the sun lose its place in the cycle, and knew that I need be here to reclaim my title and power."

Hercules felt a weight leave his shoulder. He had worried that he and Aphrodite were the last of the Olympians, but with Apollo and Artemis still strong and able, and with Hestia apparently still living, this worry had no need to be held.

Aphrodite reluctantly handed Apollo his bow, and with a flourish the recrowned sun god strapped it over his back. When she made to give him her gauntlet, he held a hand up to stop her.

"Helios usurped my power and needed the glove to maintain it, for he was not born with the ability to hold the suns light. I need it not."

Echoing that statement, three horses of flame burst forth from his body, brighter and stronger and larger than Notus was. A chariot of flame and a trio of reigns followed suit, and Apollo took their stride.

"The Age of Man is now here." Apollo said as the chariot lifted. "But the gods still have their place. No longer is Olympus our base; instead, the world shall be ours, as it was always meant to be. The wandering gods now hold dominion and will instinctively know never to return here. Their power will increase, as will their responsibilities, and our lands will know peace soon enough."

"But what are we to do?" Hercules asked. "What am _I _to do? I am a newly made god, with no sphere to control."

"Ah, but you are." Apollo said, his eyes shimmering. "War is not just violence and chaos, as Kratos and Ares have shown. It is also the knowledge of when to fight, when to retreat, and when to make peace. Though it may not seem it, War is what you make up. The two demi-god sons of Zeus, born with the same capacities for the same throne, with different inclinations on how it should be used, risen to godhood on their own merits, to hold the same title. Poetic, do you not think?"

And with that, Apollo raced off into the sky, leaving Aphrodite and Hercules behind.

The Goddess of Love and the newly crowned God of War stood still, barely understanding that that had just occurred. Yet it did, and incredulously, both burst into peels of uncontrollable laughter, for that was all they could do. They laughed and they laughed and the laughed, holding on to one another for comfort, before finally settling themselves, looking on towards the horizon.

They sat down at a cliff, and watched the sun. Aphrodite let out a small gasp of delight, and picked a stem of grass that had grown between the stone cracks of the mountain. Hercules let out a hum of understanding, and held his hand out. She placed the grass into it, but did not allow her hand to leave its position within his own.

"So what do we do now?" She asked.

"I do not know." Hercules admitted. "But Apollo at least has one thing right. This place holds nothing left for us, so we should not tarry here."

"Ah, but where would you take me?" She asked teasingly. "Back to that cave, to have your wicked way with me?"

He snorted. "As if you would not just do the same to mine own self."

"Well," Aphrodite tittered. "The mortals have a fair, true saying. All's fair in Love and War."

Laughing once more, he lowered his voice into a hearty growl. "And if all is fair, what would Love do if War made to… _attack _her?"

Her eyes seemed to light. "Why, love would say only two words."

"And those would be."

"Attack, attack!"

And War did.

* * *

**Once again, super random.**

**But it was a fun one to write. Never done a one-shot like this, but it offered a lot more content than I initially thought I would need.**

**I might revisit this in the future, to add events from the newest GoW(2018) series into the story. Possibly with Hercules and Aphrodite making their way to Midgard, happening upon Kratos and Atreus, but for now… Eh. I'm pretty happy.**

**If you liked this story, please Favorite/Follow and don't forget to Review!**


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